Unrequited
by Shayshayni
Summary: So much about the relationship between Fenris and Hawke was left up to interpretation. This is mine. Starts after the quest "A Bitter Pill". Rated M for future chapters. Reviews/critique welcome. F!Hawke/Fenris romance.
1. Chapter 1

_No more dreaming of the dead as if death itself was undone  
>No more calling like a crow for a boy, for a body in the garden<br>No more dreaming like a girl so in love, so in love  
>No more dreaming like a girl so in love, so in love<br>No more dreaming like a girl so in love with the wrong world_

"_Blinding" – Florence + the Machine_

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><p>Marian sat on her bed, quietly contemplating the events that had just transpired. She pulled her dry eyes from the flickering embers in the fireplace to the pillow behind her, the pillow that not hours before had cushioned his head. She could still smell him in the air and as she moved to rise, her mind swam with visions of how this had all come to pass. For so long, she had denied how she felt but as each day passed since they had first met, she had felt herself being drawn more and more to this mysterious elf with a past muddled in pain and fear and walls so similar to her own. How could she have let it come to this?<p>

If one night was all he could give then she would accept it for what it was. Chastising herself for letting this happen, she resigned herself to living with this unrequited love. Never before had a man been able to slip inside her defenses and now that he had fled from her arms, she felt her walls slam back into place, more fortified than ever before. Romance was never high on her list of priorities and she had seen with her own eyes the havoc wreaked by love lost.

After the death of her father, she watched her mother nearly drown in her sorrow. She watched time and again as her gentle sister opened herself to love and time and again she held her as she cried over a broken heart. Where had love gotten her sister? She had fallen for a young man for whom Marian had little affection for and the moment he discovered Bethany's magic, he'd run with his tail tucked between his legs to the Templars. The coward had paid with blood, Marian had made sure of that. After they had returned from the Deep Roads and she found Bethany being dragged to the Gallows, the first thing Marian had done was hunt that cur down. Fenris had been the one forced to drag her off the limp body of the boy she'd almost murdered in cold blood. He still bore the scars her fists inflicted and averted his eyes whenever he saw her.

She was still naked, his touch lingering on her skin and his kisses etched in her mind – she didn't know how long she had sat on her bed, crushed by the revelation that one night was all that this would be. One arm wrapped around her slender frame, she bent to retrieve the robe the he had so fiercely pulled from her body. She hardly noticed the deep red trim hanging by a thread before tossing the garment in the fire. As a flame engulfed the silken garb, tears threatened to pour from her sapphire eyes and it was all she could do to stop them from falling.

Her breath caught in her chest as she brought the mounds of her palms to her eyes, pressing firmly until her emotions were buried deep into the caverns of her heart. Suddenly, a wave of fury overtook her and she stripped her bed of its linens, throwing every last thread into the hearth watching the blaze turn the sheets to cinders. The flames licked the fabric with ferocity, engulfing not only the material but also the pain that raged inside her chest.

As the fire chewed at the remnants of the coverlet, she moved back to her bed, lying down and staring at the ceiling. For a moment, she felt a weight press into her and she gasped at air that seemed too thin to satisfy the tightness in her lungs. Rolling onto her side, she pulling her knees to her chest, she began to tremble and closed her eyes. Finally, the wall she had so carefully erected around her shattered and tears began to fall.

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><p><em>And I could hear the thunder and see the lightning crack<em>  
><em>All around the world was waking, I never could go back<em>  
><em>Cos all the walls of dreaming, they were torn wide open<em>  
><em>And finally it seemed that the spell was broken<em>

_"Blinding" – Florence + the Machine_

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><p>As the slender elf raced towards his borrowed mansion, it occurred to him that he didn't even really know why he was running. Who was he kidding – of course he knew why. If he stopped, he might turn around; he might change his mind and find himself kneeling before her, begging her to forget that he had just walked out on the only good thing in his hollow life. He reached his home but had no desire to go inside. He knew what waited there; the dark, the lonely, the smell of her and the memories of all the nights spend before his hearth sharing with each other. How could he have let it come to this?<p>

He broke into a run again and soon found himself against the shore of the Wounded Coast. How appropriate that he should come to this shore of all places. Wounded, just like him. The only thing to have stopped him was the vastness of the ocean that stretched out before him. He felt the cold water lap against his bare feet and the sensation startled him out of his numbness. He fell to his knees, raking his fingers through his hair before clenching his fists and pounding his knuckles into the sand.

_You are a fool_, he thought to himself, _how could you think of touching her? What gives you the right to entangle her in your mess of a life! If you can even call it that. You said it yourself; you don't even know where to begin once you've stopped running.  
><em>

Running. It's what he'd been doing for the last three years since he'd manage to escape Danarius in Seheron, after what he'd done to the Fog Warriors. Their bodies flashed before his eyes and he squeezed them tight trying to elude the few memories he does have. 

_You betrayed them. What makes you think you're any different now? That you wouldn't betray her at the behest of your former Master. Admit it, Fenris, you will always be subject to his torment until the moment comes that he no longer lives. Even then, would you ever be safe? You know how the nightmares haunt you and how you lash out. How can you trust yourself enough to think that she would never come to harm at your hands?_

Suddenly, he sees her, covered in blood at his feet and hears an echo of a familiar sadistic laughter. He lurches backwards, landing hard against an outcropping of rock. He pulls himself into a sitting position and notices a strip of dark red fabric clinging to his armor. He recognizes it and brings it to his face. He inhales deeply, the memory of her filling his senses and he lets loose a rage-filled howl into the night sky. As his voice breaks and his chest heaves, the howl becomes a sob and his fingers lace behind his head pulling his face between his knees. He mourns his pain, his fear and his hatred – things that will keep him a slave forever.


	2. Chapter 2

**Authors Note: First, I'd like to say thank you to horselover90, Dumbleduck, Faunwea, Anson0602 and ancaMosel**. **I'm glad my story has been thus far well received! Secondly, for the most part, I intend to follow the story line of DA II to guide my character exploration. My Hawke has been a balance between honest and sarcastic with a strong sense of right and wrong.**

**As always, critiques and reviews are welcome!  
><strong>

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><p><em>Stay out of this.<br>Oh, I know you mean to help me,  
>And I know you've good intentions.<br>But stay out of this._

"_Between a Man and a Woman" – Kate Bush_

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><p><em>Pining like a child won't change anything.<em>

Aveline spoke these words months ago with conviction about her late husband, Wesley, but little did she know how they struck a chord with Marian or how they now stung her wounded heart. Aveline was right – there was no sense holing herself up in her room, daydreaming about what might have been. She was the head of her household and even if that only meant her and her mother now, she still had responsibilities. She couldn't sit idle and let bills go unpaid, the house go unmanaged and letters unanswered. Besides, having so much to do gave her something to occupy her instead of thoughts of his arms wrapped tightly around her, pressing his lips against her skin, fingers pulling lightly at her hair and her name on his tongue…

Marian shook her head and continued with the business of attending to the various letters from nobles and requests for aid that were piling up on her desk. Her thoughts wandered again to Aveline and the love in her friends face for her lost husband. She dipped her head in reverence for Templar who gave his life trying to protect them from the Darkspawn. Despite their differences, she could not deny that he had forgone his duties to the Chantry that day and fought along side an apostate and that his bravery landed them here in Kirkwall.

_Thank you, Wesley. None of this would have been possible without you. _

Her thoughts lingered on that notion for a moment.

_Including him._

She rose from her chair and stretched, running her fingers through her long ebony hair before tying it back. After donning her armor and strapping her daggers to her back, Marian left for the Viscount Dumar's office. One of the many letters had been from his desk, requesting her presence regarding a Qunari matter. On her way, she stopped to ask her dear Guard-Captain to accompany her on this visit. She just wanted to be near someone who wouldn't press for answers about why she had been so reclusive or where he had been.

Aveline couldn't help but notice how distant Hawke had seemed in the last few weeks. She knew little of her friends' personal affairs but could tell by the pallid color and puffy eyes that Marian had eaten little and cried much since Fenris had taken on Hadriana in the slaver caverns. Come to think of it, she hadn't seen the elf since then either.

She rarely accompanied Hawke on missions anymore since taking on the responsibilities of Captain but Varric was no stranger to her office and gossip was no stranger to his tongue. His last visit had ended with a request to have the guards keep an eye out for "Broody". He was hard to miss so, she told him that she would make sure to mention it to a few of her more discreet guardsmen. So far, neither Brennan nor Donnic had seen hide or hair of the elf and with hair as striking as his, there must have been someone who'd seen him.

She fretted about asking Hawke what was wrong because while they had known each other for much longer than any of their other companions, Aveline had the tendency to be guarded about her own life and felt that others deserved the same respect. If Hawke wanted to talk to her, she would in her own terms. However, that didn't mean that she couldn't encourage someone else to pry if they saw fit. Fortunately, she knew just the dwarf to do the prying.

After speaking at length with the Viscount as to why the Arishok would request her, by name no less, Hawke pledged to him that she would travel to the Qunari compound immediately to determine the nature of the invitation. While her dealings with the Qunari had been limited, Fenris had made a distinct impression on the Arishok with his knowledge of the Qun.

_Damn it! Is there nothing in my life here that he has not touched?_

On her way dockside, she and Aveline stopped into the Hanged Man to gather Varric. Normally, she would ask Isabella to accompany her as well, but the sultry pirate always seemed to find last minute plans whenever the Qunari were concerned. Her only experience with Qunari outside of Kirkwall was the one that called himself Sten in Lothering. He had murdered an entire family after they had rescued him and nursed him back to health. Their eldest daughter was a close friend of Bethany's so, if Isabella had a history with them, she wouldn't press the issue.

The three of them made their way to the compound and they were admitted audience immediately. The Arishok was quite insistent that this was an issue that she would want to deal with great haste. Marian felt her fear grow as he told her of the saar-qamek, a gas that could kill with a breath. The foreboding Qunari leader explained how the recipe had been stolen, believed to be the explosive that a certain dwarf had previously attempted to bargain for. Annoyance became fury became wrath as the realization set in that Javaris had not only proven himself as unworthy as the Arishok originally believed but now, his foolishness and greed threatened all of Kirkwall.

Turning sharply, she curtly asked Varric if he had any idea where the scheming little bastard might be.

"I haven't kept up on the squirt but we can always ask the Coterie. Last I heard, he was paying protection and territory dues to them," Varric replied.

"Thank you, Arishok, for bringing this to my attention. You have my gratitude", Hawke said respectfully.

As she turned to leave, the Arishok spoke the closest thing to a compliment she had ever heard from a Qunari, "Panahedan, Hawke. I do not hope you die."

Turning to the Coterie proved the correct course of action as Javaris had skipped town on short notice and, Barker, the representative assigned to "consolidate" his merchandise was more than happy to provide Hawke with his suspected whereabouts. After gathering Anders, the group headed down through Darktown to a spot coined "Smuggler's Cut". The four of them tore through the mercenaries protecting a cowering Javaris and Hawke wasted no time informing him that his heist was a ruse and that instead of the explosives he thought he had, he was in possession of a deadly poison.

Javaris looked at her in confusion and explained how an elf had approached him, claiming to have stolen from the Qunari and that he was her decoy.

"I may have wanted the explosives – that stuff could've made me insanely wealthy – but, I'm no sodding fool. Stealing from those blasted ox men? That's just suicide!" railed Javaris. As much as she hated to admit it, the dwarf was right. Javaris was a lot of things but he was not an idiot and he was not a thief.

"Very well, Javaris. I expect you have a long journey ahead of you", says Hawke leaning in closer, drawing her eyes to slits, "I don't expect to see you again."

With that, Hawke beckoned to her companions and they made their way back to Kirkwall. Anders left them at Darktown, returning to his clinic and the waiting patients. As they approached the Hanged Man, Varric invariably invited them in for a drink but Aveline insisted on filing a report on Javaris and Marian declined in favor of washing the dried blood from her face and hair.

"Suit yourself, ladies. And here I was going to let you buy the first round!"

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><p>Varric was indulging in his third ale of the night when he saw the unmistakable fire red hair of the Guard-Captain enter The Hanged Man. He watched as she scanned the establishment before making her way to his preferred table.<p>

"Varric, you're looking well," said Aveline with a smile.

"Red! We don't see you around here too much anymore," scoffed Varric, "glad to see you changed your mind about that drink! You know, just between you and me, your friends had started to wonder if maybe you and Donnic had finally run off and eloped."

Aveline stared at him wide eyed in shock, nearly forgetting why she had come to the Lowtown dive. She shook her head and motioned to Norah to bring her and Varric another round.

"Buying me drinks? Where's my calendar? Did I miss my birthday?" laughed Varric.

"No," replied Aveline curtly, "I'm worried about Hawke. She hasn't seemed herself since…well, to be honest, since she went down into that slaver den with the elf. What happened? Do you know anything?"

Varric stopped smiling and leaned in close, beckoning Aveline to do the same, "It is my understanding that…how do I put this delicately…well, the two of them…well, you know," said the dwarf with a smirk and a wink.

"Varric! You can't possibly mean...the two of them…". Aveline trailed off and closed her eyes, rubbing them with her finger and thumb. "Poor Hawke. What was she thinking? You said it yourself, Varric…he's like a porcupine. Any chance you could talk to her? She looks awful, like she hasn't slept in months."

Varric sighed and rubbed his chin, "I could try, Red, but words from me aren't going to help a broken heart. There are only two people in the world that could make this better between them and, well, that's them."

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><p>Varric arrived at Hawke's estate just after nightfall. His fist fell against the door and he waited for several minutes before he heard footsteps approaching from inside. A waif of an elf peered from the entryway.<p>

"Yes, messere?"

"Is the Lady Hawke available?" asked Varric in his most formal tone. He laughed to himself. _I don't think I'll ever get used to that scrawny Fereldan refugee I met living in Hightown with a couple of servants in tow. Still, the kid made out good. What can I say; I'm a good judge of character._

As Varric continued patting himself on the back for his friends' good fortune, Orana opened the door to allow him to saunter into the foyer.

"She is home, messere. Though, I cannot promise that she will want to see you," said the timid elf. "She takes to the study as of late and does not come out unless she has business around town. Not even to eat. She's even sleeping in there, I think for I have not had to make her bed in weeks."

_Maker, it's worse than I thought. Poor kid._

Orana guided him to the study, the door of which was locked securely. Varric pounded on it and was met with an cold voice stir from the other side.

"Leave me alone. I do not wish to be disturbed."

"Hawke, it's your favorite dwarf! Come to rescue you from the drudgery of nobility and into the waiting arms of a rat-flavored whiskey!" jested Varric, hoping that his lighthearted tone would raise his friends' spirit.

"I'm not interested, Varric. Please, let me be." Her voice was sad and pleading.

"Oh, come on, Hawke! It's been ages since we've had you down at the Hanged Man for some Wicked Grace! We miss you!"

"Varric, I said no! Go away!" There was pain in her tone as well.

"Hawke…Marian. Please, we're you're friends. We're worried about you. Please, just let me in."

The silence was deafening. As it dragged on, he started to think his efforts futile but as he turned to leave, he heard the latch on the door and then nothing. He placed his hand on the handle, turning it slowly and cautiously entered the study. Hawke had returned to her desk and was hunched over a pile of papers.

Varric walked to her side and could see, even by the dim light of the dying fire, that she had been crying. Aveline was right – not that he doubted her – but he hadn't really noticed how thin Hawke looked and the gauntness of her face was only emphasized by the lack of armor that he normally saw her in.

Varric moved to place his hand on her shoulder and she quickly drew away from him.

"Well, you've seen me. I'm alive. Of course, you knew that earlier when we went to see the Arishok. I'm really not in the mood to entertain."

Varric sighed, "I know, kiddo but you sitting in this room all the time isn't good for you. You need some fresh air. Well, maybe not fresh but, at least some air. Come down the Hanged Man and we'll just have a few drinks and plan our next adventure."

Hawke slumped back in her chair and let out a long sigh.

"First of all, I don't need you telling me what to do, especially in my own house. And don't talk to me like you would Merrill – she's obsessed, I'm not. For all you know, I've been sick…"

She brought her hands to her face and rubbed it vigorously before turning her gaze towards her short stature friend. Her eyes were bloodshot and dull. Varric tried to maintain his smile but failed miserably.

"Oh, you're sick alright. Jesus, Marian. What in the Maker's name did he do to you?"

Pushing up from her seat, Hawke strode over to the fireplace, "I don't want to talk about it." As she spoke, her voice cracked and Varric heard a sharp intake of breath. It hurt to see her like this. She was the closest thing to family he had since Bartrand had betrayed them in the Deep Roads.

He made his way to her side, picked up a poker and played with the embers. "I hate to say this but I warned you Hawke. That elf, he has…issues…and…"

Hawke suddenly glared at him and venom spewed from her lips, "Don't you think I know that? How dare you come into my home and try to feed me that 'I told you so' line! Who do you think you are? Oh, the great storyteller who can't even tell the woman he's crazy about how he really feels. I see how you look at her! But all you can do is make up stories about every one else's life instead of living for your self! Stay out of this, Varric. My personal life is just that. Personal! Not fodder for your books! Now, I'll trust you to move on from this and leave me to grieve in my own way. I'll come by the Hanged Man when we get word of the saar-qamek. Until then, please, leave me be!"

For the first time since she'd met him, Varric was speechless. His mouth pulled into a thin line; he nodded to her, turned on his heel and walked out of her home, slamming the door as he left.

Marian flinched at the sound and instantly regretted turning on him. He was her friend and all he wanted to do was help her. She returned to her desk, desperately wanting to finish going through all the letters that seemed to come in an endless flow. She picked up a piece of parchment and scanned it. It was from Feynriel, thanking her. As she scanned the letter, the sorrow in her heart overflowed and one by one, tears fell to the page, blurring the ink. She dropped the letter and put her head down on the desk and wept.


	3. Chapter 3

**Authors Note: Thank you to horselover90, Dumbleduck, Faunwea, Anson0602, ancaMosel, Aya001, fanglickingood, Ryoko and Metallium! It means so much to know that my writing is appreciated. Sorry it took so long to update. School starts back up for me tomorrow so, it make take me a few weeks to get the next chapter to a publishable point. Enjoy and as always, reviews/critiques are greatly welcome! 3**

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><p><em>I hurt myself today<br>To see if I still feel  
>I focus on the pain<br>the only thing that's real  
>The needle tears a hole<br>the old familiar sting  
>Try to kill it all away<br>but I remember everything._

"_Hurt" – Nine Inch Nails (Johnny Cash version)_

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><p>It had been a long time since he'd spent this amount of time alone. It was better this way. The last thing he wanted was to see harm come to her. The damage he'd caused was already almost too much to bear. He rarely ever ventured into Kirkwall anymore, instead opting to live off of roots and fish and whatever else he could forage on the coast. It wasn't the first time he'd lived outdoors and if Danarius had his way, it likely wouldn't be the last. Nothing could have prepared him for an unexpected visit from a saucy pirate, however.<p>

Isabella wasn't known for modesty and had her fingers in many places – literally. Sure, there were men and women of the night but she held a secret affinity for persons in uniform. Fortunately for her, Guardsman Brennan enjoyed the company of a certain…what did that god-awful poet call her…"dusky goddess". One evening, as they drank themselves into oblivion, Brennan let slip that Aveline had made a special request about the lanky elf. Isabella knew in an instant that this request was about Hawke. She was no stranger to broken hearts and her lovely friend was certainly suffering from one.

She decided she was going to aid in this search for Mr. Broody and posted a contact to watch his mansion. Finally, this spying proved fruitful as her acquaintance came to her stating he had seen the elf briefly in the wee hours of the morning, long before the sun had risen. Her hireling, in an effort to ingratiate himself to the exotic femme fatale, decided it was in his best interest to follow the elf. Isabella thanked him for his enthusiasm but inwardly cringed at what would have happened to her contact had Fenris caught someone tailing him. She paid him and left for the Wounded Coast, hearing him call after her suggesting he could be paid by means a bit softer than mere coin.

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><p>Fenris stared out at the water, watching the waves crash against the shore. Staying away from Kirkwall had been the only thing keeping him from losing his mind. Yet, even this far out from the city, he hadn't yet managed to remove her from his thoughts. Every time he tried to rest, his mind was tormented by memories of the oceans that were her eyes that he so longed to swim in. Every night, he dreamt of her caress and every morning, he woke to a deeper longing that he had ever known. His entire being ached to pull her into his arms – she was the only comfort he had ever known and yet, he couldn't bear the thought of facing the past that was so cruelly wrenched from him.<p>

He stroked the lines of lyrium that were branded into his forearm and felt yet another wave of anger and hatred crash into him. In all the time he had been on the run he had never felt so conflicted about his life. He hated Danarius with every breath in his body. Yet, now he was eternally connected to this woman that he never would have known had events in his past hadn't happened just so. Despite the growing pit of loss in his stomach, he couldn't help but feel the slightest bit of ease about his markings with the knowledge that it led him to Hawke.

_Still, you're a fool. The one thing you claim to want – family – she was ready to offer. And what did you do? You ran away. You are a coward. _

"You know, I can see the appeal of this place…"

He turned towards to voice, reaching for the hilt of his blade.

"…Off the beaten path, a little hard to find, great views, no jilted lover to bring down the mood…" sneered the pirate, hiking a boot onto a rock, glaring at the angry elf.

"Oh? Struck a nerve, did we?"

Fenris stood, fists clenched, unsure if he wanted to hit her with words or fists.

"Well," continued Isabella, not giving him a moment to breath let alone speak, "you've struck a nerve with us. You know she's been holed up in her study since you took off like a child?"

His expression changed from outrage to shock.

"Think we wouldn't figure it out? She's been gaga about you since she met your lanky ass and now, suddenly, she won't even take visitors and you were nowhere to be found. It doesn't take a spy to figure out what happened. Well, let me give you a word of advice. Either try and work something out or move on, Fenris. Even if you can't be with her, at least give her closure so she can get passed this grief. It's excruciating watching her waste away like she has been! She deserves better than this. Maker knows what she sees in you! Ugh. I have to go – we have a date with some psycho who stole some gas…saar-something…from the Qunari."

With that, Isabella turned on her heel and stormed off the beach.

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><p>Fenris stood on the shore, wide eyed and scrambling to process all the information that had just been hurled at him. What his senses honed in on, however, was the pirates' mention of a poison gas from the Qunari. His time spent in Seheron had taught him much about the Qunari and the Fog Warriors had a penchant for poisons – in particular, the saar-gamek – which he knew had the tendency to drive its victims mad with rage before slowly depriving their lungs of the ability to take in life giving breath.<p>

If this was the poison that Isabella spoke of then his friends didn't have any idea what they were up against and he had to get there fast to help.

He couldn't move quickly enough. His every thought moved him towards Kirkwall and filled him with fear that he would be too late. He would never forgive himself if his selfishness and abandonment hurt Hawke more than it already had. His feet pounded into sand that gave too much under his stride, filling him with frustration. Soon sand became hard, pressed clay and as he entered Lowtown, he slowed and listened. Screams – to the right. He tore towards the sounds and while the streets were mostly deserted, he could see guardsmen ushering people towards Hightown, most likely to the Chantry for care. He also noticed some people wandering away towards Darktown, no doubt to see their precious healer.

He sidled up to one of the guards, demanding to know where these people were being taken from. The guard looked startled and fumbled over his words, "Uh…the gas…it's everywhere…in the, the alley…uh…that way…"

The guard motioned towards the commotion and Fenris sped off towards the dark alley. As he moved, he could see more and more people being escorted away from the area and noticed that a quarantine had been established around a particular passage. Instead of dealing with the myriad of guards standing around who most certainly would only get in his way, Fenris opted for the more direct route over the rooftops. He scanned his surrounding and found a house with a corner in much need of repair that, for the moment, served his purposes perfectly. Throwing one hand over the other, he scaled the side of the building in three fluid movements.

From the roof of the hovel, he was granted an excellent vantage point to see not only the closed off street but also the infected alley. Already, he could smell the poison and much to his terror, it was in fact the saar-gamek that now threatened the city. Two modest leaps took him to the edge of the backstreet where a green mist hovered across the ground, emanating from several wooden barrels. He surveyed the dark area below him and found, one by one, his companions fighting with a seemingly endless number of mercenaries.

Varric, of course, stood on a step firing Bianca into the air, keeping many of the hired thugs subdued. Hawke never went anywhere without her trusty dwarf and there was no one Fenris trusted more than himself to keep her safe. He seemed to be fine aside from a flushed look and flared nose – most likely a result of holding his breath to keep from inhaling the toxin. Being shorter often had its advantages for the dwarf but certainly not in this situation.

Not far from Varric, Isabella was thrusting her knives into the back of a dazed combatant. She looked a little more wild-eyed than normal and her swings were a bit off but she seemed to be holding up well. She was a tough customer and could handle herself just fine. Fenris was surprised to see Merrill there instead of the abomination – usually, Hawke depended on _his _healing but for some reason that he could not fathom she had brought the blood mage instead. A sourness rose from his stomach into his throat and he couldn't help but let out a small growl as he watched the mage cast spell after spell at their attackers.

Finally, his eyes settled on the visage of the only one he cared to see. Hawke – her hair plastered to her face with sweat, one dagger sheathed as she gripped some kind of metal wrench. She ran into the thickest part of the green mist, slamming the handle onto the top of a barrel and he held his breath as she strained to pull the keg closed. He couldn't help but feel captivated while watching the muscles in her arms and shoulders tense against the pressure. Suddenly, their night together flashed in his mind and he saw her body pressed against him, those same muscles tearing at his armor. He squeezed his eyes tightly, trying to bring himself back to the present. He didn't want to interfere if he could help it. He dreaded the moment he would have to face her.

After closing the drum, she pulled her second dagger from its sheath and leapt through the air, driving the blades into an attacker. In one fluid motion, she then pulled them back from the felled man, swinging her body upwards driving one of her blades into the shoulder of another mercenary that was bearing down on her from behind and used her second dagger to slit his throat. Fenris watched on from the rooftops, endlessly impressed with her prowess in battle. She seemed to possess a sixth sense about the way she anticipated her assailants attacks and it never ceased to entrance him.

The onslaught seemed to last an eternity and when things finally seemed to be ending; Fenris spied an elf bearing a broadsword sauntering into the clearing. A hush fell over the alley as the last of the mercenaries were felled. He watched and listened as words passed between the elf and his Hawke.

_His Hawke? What of her could he claim,_ he thought to himself, _whatever part of her that could have been yours, you walked out on that. You have no right to her. _

Even as he chastised himself for continuing to think of her in such a way, he couldn't help but mull over what the pirate had said to him not a few hours before. He was lost in thoughts of Hawke when the sharp clang of metal against metal shocked him back to the present. Hawke stood on a staircase, the elf's blade trapped between her twin blades. He scanned the alley and saw Varric nearly surrounded, standing over Merrill's small frame slumped on the ground behind him. Isabella was to the other side of the crowd threatening to overtake the dwarf. She moved quickly, stabbing and slicing though the group as efficiently as she could.

Hawke was alone and quickly becoming outnumbered. She could never be matched one on one but ability could only stand so long against enemies so great in number. The elf she faced was blind with rage and somehow managed to twist her sword, throwing Hawke to her knee. At that moment, Fenris hurdled himself onto the street, speeding past the gang attacking Varric and Isabella and straight into the fray surrounding the waning rogue.

* * *

><p>Hawke struggled to regain her composure after being thrown to her knees by the formidable elf. She raised her daggers in a defensive stance, hoping to thwart the impending attack that loomed over her in her vulnerable state. Her head was dizzy from desperately trying to avoid breathing in the poison and she found herself exhausted. The fight had gone on for far too long and she felt her muscles threatening to fail her in the wake of not having received enough oxygen. Her body burned with fatigue and her vision obscured in a watery reaction to the gas. The offending elf raised her broadsword above her head and glared at Hawke with fury and Hawke stared back intensely, expecting a killing blow when suddenly a blur of bright blue light struck the elf hard, knocking her off her feet. Another swing from a long, blue blade felled the remaining aggressors. Hawke looked over at the fallen warrior and saw him – her white haired savior – standing over the crazed elf, staring at her over his shoulder.<p>

She searched his face for meaning but was met with only neutrality. _Blasted stubborn elf, _she thought as he fluidly moved over to her and offered his hand to help her to stand. She took it and tried to ignore the spark she felt as their skin made contact. She also couldn't help but notice the deep red satin wrapped securely around his gauntlet. She intentionally avoided his gaze and, running her fingers through her hair, she scoured the alleyway for her companions. Varric knelt next to Merrill, who looked utterly exhausted. Isabella leaned against the wall next to them, cleaning blood from under her nails with a small dagger that was usually sheathed at her thigh.

Hawke straightened up and took a deep breath, her head still swimming from the deadly mist. Taking a few steps towards her friends and her knees gave out. Fortunately, Fenris moved quickly and caught her by the waist pulling her to her feet again. She blushed, trying to hide her embarrassment but as she looked into his jade green eyes, she felt as though she was falling into a hole and darkness flooded her vision.

* * *

><p>Fenris couldn't help but smirk when he saw her cheeks flush slightly. Hawke was not one to show any sign of weakness and to see her stumbling on her feet was especially unusual. The awkwardness of the moment was cut short however when her body suddenly went limp in his arms. Her eyes glazed over and her head lolled backwards exposing her neck and a weak pulse.<p>

"HAWKE!" the elf cried out, his voice noticeably filled with fear. His eyes shot over to their companions. Isabella thrust herself off the wall and stood there in shock seeing Hawke laying slack across Fenris's forearm.

"We're fine! Just go! Get her to Anders!" yelled Varric as he helped Merrill to her feet.

Fenris slipped his other arm under the bend in her knees and hoisted her head to his shoulder. He could feel her faint breath against his neck and took off with lighting at his heels. His surroundings faded away as he flew towards the clinic. His heart raced with adrenaline and fear. All he could think of is saving the woman in his arms, clinging to the hope that all the faith that Hawke put in the abomination would serve her well now that it was her life on the line.

Anders was hovering over his apothecary set when Fenris bashed the door in with his shoulder. The sudden crash startled the mage and he spun around, ready to defend himself. Instead, he found his heart catch in his throat at the sight of a listless Hawke sagging in the arms of the lyrium-laced elf.

"What have you done?" demanded the mage, his eyes and nostrils flaring in anger.

"I have done nothing," growled Fenris, "now help her."

He lay Hawke down gently on the makeshift examination table and knelt at her side. Anders moved in closely, poised over her mouth. Fenris fought the urge to seize the mage by the throat.

"She's still breathing. Talk fast, elf. What happened?" said Anders, not taking his eyes off his patient.

"It's a Qunari poison gas: saar-gamek. Apparently, some elf stole it and intended to destroy half of Kirkwall with it…" His voice trailed off as he watched the mage float his hands above her chest. His chest tightened and his stomach turned seeing the abomination this close to the woman he…

Fenris stopped himself short. _Don't be a fool. You don't deserve her. You walked out. You left that behind. _

Anders placed a hand on her forehead and her stomach, calling forth healing energies from the Fade. A silvery green glow emanated from the mage and Fenris sat, poised to strike should he suspect foul play. They lingered there - Anders, Fenris and an unconscious Hawke – in a silent battle for her life. Fenris found himself unable to breath as the mage worked on the woman lying between them.

He had never noticed how small she was until their night together and he couldn't help but recall the ease at which he had carried her here. Her personality was so formidable, her strength and presence so great that her small frame had never come to his attention until they had been locked in a passionate embrace. His skin pricked as he traveled back to the night he had shared her bed. He remembered how he savored the taste of her skin and his lips twitched at the thought of covering her mouth with his. It was most certainly different with her.

In his time spent serving Danarius, the only sensation he knew of touch was pain, be it the pain of a lash, punch or slap. Then there was Hadriana. Oh, how she loved to torment the elf. He had told Hawke only the slightest bit of how that bitch had hounded him. What he had left out, however, was how Hadriana lusted after him and punished him for it. It was like some cruel game for her – she would imprison him with magic and force herself on him, making him perform unspeakable acts, filling him and fucking him in every way she could think of. Not once was it wanted and not once was it pleasurable and after she was done, she would torture him for making her desire him.

"She'll be okay but she needs rest. I'd like to keep her overnight." The mages voice ripped Fenris out of his waking nightmare.

"No," he replied, "I will take her home. I will stay with her."

Anders opened his mouth to object but thought better of it when he saw the look on the elf's face.

"Fine," he said, crossing his arms over his chest and pulling his lips tight to indicate his disapproval, "but let me at least send you with some poultices. Make sure she drinks them; one as soon as she wakes and again every two hours. It will help absorb the toxins in her body."

Anders handed Fenris a case with six sizeable jars of a slimy looking purple goop. Fenris placed them in a satchel and nodded sharply at the mage before scooping Hawke into his arms again and making his way back to her home in Hightown.

* * *

><p>Fortunately for Fenris, the streets of Kirkwall seemed abandoned on this particular evening. Whether it was because Hawke and her friends had all but eliminated the criminal element or simply luck, he was grateful for small graces tonight. Hawke would live and nothing could shake the feeling of relief that was filling his heart.<p>

When he arrived at her estate, he saddled up to the door and rapped on the door briskly, careful not to let his friend slip from his arms. A few moments passed before Bodahn opened the door, looking slightly cross at being disturbed at such a late hour. His expression changed the instant he saw his mistress being carried by the elf and before he could speak, Fenris slipped inside.

"She'll be okay," he said in a hushed tone as to not disturb the entire house, "I took her to Anders and he did what he could. Now, she just needs to rest."

Bodahn moved from the elf's path and Hawke's mabari, Bael'mas, who was sleeping calmly by the fire, lifted his head for a moment before stretching and following Fenris up the stairs. The elf pushed open the door to her bedroom and laid her tenderly on the plush mattress. He turned to the hearth and built a fire to warm the frigid room. As he knelt down to build a pyre of wood, he noticed there were small, singed fragments of red satin in the left over ashes – the same deep red color of the sash he had worn since the night he left her alone in this very room.

Removing his gauntlets and placing them carefully on the night table, Fenris returned to her side, carefully removing her boots and leather breastplate. He dared not go further for fear of being discovered disrobing her and having anyone suspect he was trying to take advantage of her. Instead, he pulled the sheet and coverlet from beneath her and pulled them to her shoulders. Seeing her there, soft and vulnerable, ignited in Fenris a strong desire to protect her at all costs. He reached down his hand and tucked a few stray strands of hair behind her ear and she let out a soft sigh, "Mmmm, Fenris…"

His breath caught in his throat. He searched her face for signs that she was awake but there were none. Did she just call out his name in her sleep? Fenris was suddenly overcome with the instinct to flee her side yet again.

_She would probably just throw you out if she knew you were here. Why are you here? You can't have her. She deserves better than some slave – too scared of his own past to have any semblance of a future. You should just leave now._

He rose and moved towards the door and he heard a soft, painful cry, "Don't go…please…"

Never before had words hit him so hard. His eyes stung as he fought back the emotions that threatened to spill over. He released the handle of the door, made the meager steps back to her side and sat on the floor next to her. That is where he stayed until the sun beat out the moon for center stage in the sky and she began to stir.

* * *

><p>Hawke awoke alone in her own room to the sun shining in on her. She possessed only a vague recollection of the events the night before but she could not remember how she'd gotten here. She hadn't even stepped into this room since Fenris has left her a month ago. She looked around the room and noticed the window was left open. She moved to get up but found herself too dizzy to stand so she called for Orana.<p>

It was then that she noticed the case of six vials of purple goop sitting on the table next to her bed. Next to them lay a note: "Take one when you wake and every two hours after."

The scratches on the paper were immediately identifiable. Fenris had been here.


End file.
